


There is the World Itself

by Bettybot (Lizbettywrites)



Series: The Ways They Said "I Love You" [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizbettywrites/pseuds/Bettybot
Summary: Both captain and first officer have a lot to learn.





	1. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

In all his experiences with commanding officers, Ultra Magnus had never encountered one quite so frustrating as Rodimus.

“You cannot dismiss the importance of filing incident reports with the involved department; Autobot code clearly states that—”

“Your definition of importance is pretty far off from mine.” Rodimus had his feet propped up on the desk again. He had to be doing that on purpose by now. “Isn’t enforcing the decibel limit on Karaoke Night kind of beneath your notice?”

Ultra Magnus drew himself up, affronted at the suggestion. “The regulations are in place to maintain order and safety,” he stated. “I must insist you treat this infraction with the gravity it merits.”

“So Trailbreaker’s belting got a little out of hand. Nobody was complaining about it except—oh, chill out, Magnus, you know I love you! This is just seeming over the top, even for you, you know?”

He stared at his captain, uncomprehending. Surely he hadn’t heard that right.

Rodimus cocked his head to the side, apparently confused by his sudden freezing. “What?”

“You—?” 

“Oh, that. ‘S an expression, Mags, don’t get your cables in a twist.” His expression turned sly. “Aw, Mags, did I fluster you? That’s so cute!”

“Rodimus!” he barked, attempting to regain his composure. Ultra Magnus was not a figure of fun, nor a figure of cuteness. The gruff tone seemed to work.

“And anyway, what department would this go under? Last time I checked, the bar isn’t in the listings.”

“And when was the last time you checked?” Ultra Magnus asked, hoping against all hope that there was indeed a light at the end of this dark and unruly tunnel.

“Just kidding. I haven’t looked at the regulations since you made me sign off on them the day of the launch.”

Had he possessed hair, Ultra Magnus would be, as Verity would say, “tearing it out.”


	2. Over your shoulder

Ultra Magnus felt he was nearing the end of his patience for Rodimus. General flippancy was one thing, but showing up to his shift hungover was quite another. The manic behavior that the captain exhibited in his attempts to hide it were no less irritating.

“No, no, see, the map says we’ve got to go from this—this splotchy thing—to that glowy bit there, in that order, ‘cause if you look at it this way—”

“Captain, something about the map seems off,” Smokescreen cut in. “I thought we were over here.” He pointed to a shape near Ultra Magnus’ elbow.

“Nah, that can’t be right!” Rodimus half-skipped, half-staggered over to the console and pressed the intercom. “Perceptor—Perce—report to the bridge for, uh, debriefing.” He paused. “Briefing. One of the two. Maybe both.” Releasing the button, he swayed a moment before turning around. Magnus noted the aborted twitch of a hand toward his no doubt aching helm. “See, Percy’s gonna straighten it out for us! Don’t see why it’s gotta be so hard to—” He stopped short upon Perceptor’s entrance. “Percy! C’mere, look, we’re having a bit of a row over the map. See, I said—”

“You’ve projected it upside down, you nincompoop,” the scientist stated.

That was all Magnus needed to hear. While Perceptor and Smokescreen fixed the projection, he drew his captain aside. “Rodimus, you need to go to your habitation suite and recharge.” He couldn’t command his commanding officer, but maybe, just maybe, he could convince him to take care of himself anyway.

It was telling that Rodimus didn’t get defensive over his state. “But my shift—”

“—will be taken over by myself. You’re not fit for duty at the moment.” He hoped that no one was watching, but then again, Rodimus didn’t have much dignity or authority to preserve in the first place. Magnus took him by the shoulders and began to steer him bodily out the door.

The captain’s frame sagged in a mixture of shame and relief as they passed the doorframe.

“Go rest,” Magnus repeated.

Rodimus grinned tiredly and transformed. “Mmkay, I love you, buh-bye!” he called as he drove off in the direction of his habitation suite.

Ultra Magnus cringed. They would need to have another talk about improper use of alternate mode in the halls. At least the captain’s much slower rate extenuated the circumstances.

On the other hand, he would certainly need to address the informality Rodimus seemed set on implementing in their exchanges.

At some point.


	3. As an apology

“Magnus. Can we talk?” Rodimus had taken a break from delivering orders, as evidenced by his presence in his SIC’s office.

Ultra Magnus gestured to the chair by his desk. “Of course, captain.”

The title seemed to affect Rodimus: he hesitated and swallowed before taking the seat. Magnus understood. The vote had shaken him as well. After all that had taken place on Luna 1, he was finding it difficult to view Rodimus’ actions as incompetency alone. He hadn’t much on which to pride himself lately, either. The idea of losing Rodimus as captain was more jarring than he would have thought a week prior.

“I know I’ve been messing up, Magnus.” Rodimus was sitting straight up for once, hands clasped on top of the desk.

“Have we not been over this?” Magnus queried.

“I don’t mean as a captain,” Rodimus dismissed it, then looked contrite. “Well, not just as a captain. I mean as—as whatever I am to you. I messed up. I’ve been treating you like slag, disregarding your advice… The thing is, you mean a lot to me, and I haven’t shown that in anything I’ve done or said, and I can’t decide whether it’s better or worse to have hurt you compared to my other disasters—” He vented. “Anyway, I want to fix us, too, so add it to the list of amends I need to make, okay?”

Magnus could only stare as his captain stood and left. Deep inside his recently-restored armor, Minimus Ambus became aware of a soft, warm sensation spreading through his spark.


	4. In awe, the first time you realised it

Ultra Magnus wouldn't dream of voicing his opinion on Megatron's installation as co-captain of the Lost Light, but the fact remained that thus far he was less than disgusted with the former warlord’s conduct. Frankly, he was somewhat impressed against his will. Communication along the chain of command had improved greatly, for example. And he was loathe to include it with the more professional developments, but Ultra Magnus had Megatron to thank for what he personally considered to be the most crucial communication yet.

In retrospect, all it took was a single offhand comment. An innocent observation after yet another clash between co-captains, this one concluding with an offended Rodimus leaving in a huff. Magnus wasn't sure what part of his body language implied his desire to follow, but Megatron seemed to notice it.

“I take it you two are close, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Megatron almost smirked. “I had been prepared for outrage upon my usurpation of this role, but now I see young Rodimus is jealous over more than the captain's seat.”

Ultra Magnus former duly appointed enforcer of the Tyrest Accord and present second-in-command of the Lost Light, reset his optics.

The exchange lingered in his processor in his next encounter with Rodimus.

“I am not fully convinced of the merits of your proposal,” he was saying in the co-captains office. “Perhaps if we were to consult M—”

“Oh, of course! How could we not consult Megatron?” Rodimus slammed his hands onto his desk and stood up. “By all means, let's correct this error immediately, since no plan could ever work without Megatron's involvement!” he exploded.

Magnus was taken aback. “Rodimus—captain—”

“Co-captain,” he spat. “As you both are so keen to remind me. Why don't we just hand over the rest of the command to him while we're at it, since he's already stolen everything and everyone else!”

“Stolen?”

“You always take his side! You're always off with him, reading, making up jokes, ignoring my authority, whatever!” His voice took on a plaintive tone. “You got drinks with him at Swerve’s. You've never once gotten a drink with me. So what in all that points to anything else?” Rodimus slumped back into his chair. “I—” He vented hard. “I'm sorry, Magnus. That was out of line. I just...”

“Getting along and sharing interest does not constitute what you are implying,” Magnus managed, his processor racing to put the pieces together.

“But I'm right, aren't I.” Rodimus is voice had gone soft. “You like him.”

“Like—”

“Or love. I don't want to put words in your mouth. If you're happy, I shouldn't be getting after you about it.”

Magnus reared back. “I don't—I am not—interested—in Megatron—in that way!”

“You don't have to cover anything up.” Rodimus sounded tired. “Why wouldn't you love him? He treats you well. He's competent, and he always answers your memos. Why not?”

The final piece clicked into place. Magnus impulsively set his hands over his captain’s on the desk.

“Because I love _you,_ Rodimus.”


	5. With no space left between us

Ultra Magnus did not condone fidgeting. It was an unnecessary and frankly irritating waste of energy. It was unprofessional. He hoped to Primus no one could see him fidgeting outside Rodimus’ habitation suite. Perhaps he had misread the situation earlier.

_Rodimus’ eyes flashed. His lips barely parted, then pressed together into a thin line. Under Ultra Magnus’ hold, his hands were scorching hot. His EM field flicked out, tinged with something akin to what crackled through Ultra Magnus’—and drew tighter to his frame again. He pulled his hands back, but there was a shine to his eyes now and a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth._

_”You’re serious?” Ultra Magnus stared at him blankly, and a full grin split his face. “Okay. Okay. Meet me after your shift ends. My hab."_

The door slid open before Ultra Magnus mustered the audacity to knock. Behind it, Rodimus rocked on the balls of his pedes, heel-toe-heel-toe-heel. His spoiler flicked. “Hey, Magnus. Come on in.”

The habsuite was remarkably tidy. Ultra Magnus followed him to the couch against the back wall. A plate of energon gels rested on the table beside it. Rodimus sat at one end of the couch, legs crossed and shoulders tucked in as if trying to take as little space as possible. Magnus eased himself down. Nearly a full third of the couch stretched between them.

Rodimus picked up the plate and held it out, a crooked smile playing across his face. Magnus accepted a treat, still watching his captain warily.

“So. Um. I figured you probably need… parameters and stuff, so we ought to sit and talk through this.”

Magnus reset his optics. “That is considerate of you.”

Rodimus set the dish to the side before turning bodily to face him, optics glowing bright and earnest. “Okay. Let me start with the easiest thing: I feel the same way. Um. Have for a while. So before we go into logistics and all that, if that’s what you want, I want to be clear, Mags.” He vented. “I don’t deserve your loyalty, or your support, or your love. But I’ll always be trying to be worthy. And I do want to give—this—a try. A relationship.”

Rodimus had scooted closer over the course of his speech, Magnus realized upon tearing his attention from the indent Rodimus’ biting his lip made in soft dermal metal. If he wanted, he could—hm. Gingerly, terrified of the possibilities opened by following such a wanton whim, Magnus reached his arm around the captain’s shoulders.

“You are,” he said, quiet but firm in his conviction.

Rodimus stared up at him. “Mags…”

“You are,” Magnus repeated, stronger this time. He tugged Rodimus to his side, the beginnings of illicit thrill stirring in his fuel lines at the intimacy. Little by little, Rodimus relaxed into his frame, engine thrumming. Silence reigned, its throne usurped only by the hum of a content racer build and soft munching sounds as they passed the energon gels back and forth.

“Mags?” Rodimus murmured after a while. “‘M sorry about—earlier, in the office.”

“Apology accepted,” Magnus replied.

Rodimus scooted even closer, if that was possible. “I’ll do better.”

“You already have.”

“Magnus?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too.”


	6. Over a cup of tea

“Knock, knock.”

Ultra Magnus looked up from the screen before him, puzzled. “There is no need to vocalize your arrival, Rodimus. The door recognizes your code and identifies you to me.”

His Captain stepped into his office, a cheeky grin playing over his face. “I know. It's just fun to say.” He was holding a cube of energon, which he now set on Ultra Magnus's desk at—Magnus cycled his optics in surprise—the appropriate distance from his work space for peak refueling efficiency.

“If I can't get you to leave the office for a fuel break,” Rodimus stated, “I'll bring the fuel break to you.” He pointed to the cube. “I got your taste preferences from Swerve and the recommended supplements from Lotty. She wants you taking heavy metals until this streak of triple shifts is over.”

Magnus reset his vocalizer, lost for words. “I—that's very thoughtful of you.”

Rodimus patted his hand. “Only the best for you, Magnus.”

Magnus turned his hand over to close it around Rodimus’. “I appreciate this, Roddy. Thank you.” Rodimus’ spoiler went rigid at the sound of the nickname.

“Shortening of a superior officer’s name, Ultra Magnus?” he _beamed_. “I love you, too.”


End file.
